


a wish your heart makes

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: Emma looks back at the dancers behind her. Neither of them noticed Emma letting a stranger step into her personal space to woo her in the most peculiar way.





	

_I wish for companionship._

The thought crosses her mind when she blows the candle in one breath, surprising, uninvited. It is a weird thought to have, for a person like her – for a princess with close, lifelong friends, with doting parents, a charming son and a loyal brother. She is surrounded by love every which way she looks, and doesn’t feel alone. Isn’t alone, never has been. But lonely, perhaps…

She shakes her head slightly as she raises her head to smile at her parents. People are clapping around her, wishing her a happy birthday for what feels like the hundredth time already. Gifts are taking most of the long table, and Emma wonders what hides beneath the soft paper – books and jewellery, perhaps, presents worthy of a princess of her rank.

Those presents she doesn’t get to open, for Alexandra grabs her hand before Emma even has time to blink, pulling her toward the centre of the ballroom. Musicians are taking this as their cue, throwing themselves into a lively song, and Emma can only grin as her friend takes both of her hands and starts dancing. They have been doing this ever since they were children, little lasses barely standing on their feet – it makes their mothers laugh, thinking back to the balls they attended together, to the dances they shared too when they were younger.

“How old you are,” Alexandra jokes, as she always does.

Only three days separates their births, but the other princess always makes a point of reminding Emma that she will forever remain the oldest one of the pair. So Emma only grins, and spins around when the tempo changes. “How old we both are,” she replies with a laugh.

Her spin gives her a perfect view of the room around her, and so a perfect view of a man she hadn’t noticed up until now. She frowns at his dark coat, so unlike the pastel colours worn in Mist Haven, so unlike the fashion of their kingdom. It takes another spin for Emma to notice he is staring at her, on top of standing out like a sore thumb, and Alexandra isn’t slow to notice too.

“A new admirer, I see,” she says light-heartedly.

“Do you know him?”

Alexandra only shakes her head, but Emma can see it is something that doesn’t preoccupy her – Alexandra isn’t preoccupied by much, when Emma tends to be wary of the little details, never giving her trust easily, always doubting the people around her. She takes after her father in that department, that is for sure.

The song ends a few notes later and, instead of letting anyone else pull her into another dance – Gideon is grinning at her like he is thinking of doing just that – Emma moves away from the other dancers. She slowly makes her way to the buffet table, wandering this or that way, and isn’t surprised to find herself followed every time she casts a glance above her shoulder.

She stops in front of the drinks, grabbing a cup of sparkling wine between delicate fingers, not even looking back. “You make for a pitiful spy, you know.”

There is a second of silence before he chuckles, the sound low and throaty. The corner of her mouth twitches in appreciation, before she grabs another cup and turns around, handing it to him. He looks between the drink and her eyes for a few moments, before he takes it from her. His fingers brush against her hand, too deliberate to be a mistake, and Emma forces herself not to gasp at the man’s lack of manners. Or subtlety.

“I must admit this isn’t one of the many skills I’ve mastered,” he replies.

His tongue darts to his upper lip, the implication behind his words not lost on Emma. She casts him an unimpressed look, eyebrow rising, and his smile turns into something different, amused and facetious. It is as if they are sharing a private joke, only the punchline is lost on Emma.

“Do those skills involve good manners?” she asks.

His smile widens, before he bows to her. The gesture toys the line between sarcastic and respectful – surely a skill of its own – and he even manages not to spill a single drop of his glass in the process. Emma isn’t impressed, but it is a close thing.

“Captain Killian Jones, Your Highness. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

A lie. Although Emma doesn’t know where this lie is, when this Killian Jones seems indeed pleased to be by her side. It only makes her frown at him, brows pulled together ever so slightly, which turns his smile into a smirk. He is mocking her by now, and Emma has gotten angry at many a man for far less. So why doesn’t she take affront in his behaviour? Why does she find it… endearing, even? It is a puzzling thought, and she hides her confusion behind a sip of her drink.

“Would Her Highness do me the honour of a dance?” he goes on.

Emma looks back at the dancers behind her. Her brother and Gideon are now dancing together, foreheads touching, and Alexandra is pulling Roland into a dance, ignoring the fact that he is a royal guard and not a guest. Her parents are talking with Ella, and Henry is talking animatedly with four of the dwarves. Neither of them noticed Emma letting a stranger step into her personal space to woo her in the most peculiar way.

“I have been known to be a perfect partner at times,” he adds, once again with that tone implying a shared moment that is lost on Emma. It tastes almost familiar on the tip of her tongue, like waking up only to remember bribes of your dream, and it leaves her frustrated at best. It leaves her vulnerable to his actions, too, and Killian Jones is already taking her hand before she can stop him, pulling her toward the other dancers before she can protest.

It is only when he puts a hand on her hip that she notices the wooden appendage. The question is on her mind and in her eyes, but he only shrugs at her before putting her own hand on his shoulder and pulling him closer to him. When she breathes out a sigh, it touches his skin, and he smiles at her – an actual boyish smile, dimples in his cheeks, instead of a smirk – before he leads her to the tempo of the song.

And he was right – he is a perfect partner. She is flying between his arms with each step, grinning up at him as a laugh bubbles out of her mouth when he makes her spin away from him and then pulls her back – a little too forcefully, and she lands inelegantly against his chest. People are watching, staring even, but Emma cannot find it in herself to care. Not when she is having so much fun – it is her birthday, after all, she is allowed to entertain herself as she so wishes.

A new song starts, and another one after it, Alexandra winking at her when she coaxes Prince Philip the Younger into dancing with her. Emma winks back, before focusing on her partner once more. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure, his grin dazzling, and Emma doesn’t think twice when he dances them away from the other couples and closer to the balcony. She feels like a young lass with her first crush – or at least, how she would have felt as a lass with her first crush, if said crush hadn’t broken her heart and left her alone with a bastard son.

Killian puts a finger on his lips, and it has the opposite effect, making her laugh loudly – louder still when he pulls on her arm so they can hide on the balcony and not attract attention from the guests. He is three seconds away from putting his hand on her mouth, something so preposterous it almost makes Emma laugh giddily once more.

She leans against the wall, the bricks cold against her bare shoulders and arms, and isn’t surprised in the least when he comes close, only a breath away from her. His eyes drop to her lips, half open in a panting laugh, before he focuses back on her eyes.

“You’re so different,” he whispers.

He hesitates for a moment, before his hand rises to grab a piece of rebellious hair and tuck it back behind her ear. Emma forces herself not to gasp, nor to lean in his touch. That would be preposterous, too.

“How so?” she asks.

She doesn’t ask how he seems to know her so well. He doesn’t – she has never met this man in her life, he is nothing but a stranger to her. The idea of him knowing her is ridiculous at best, worrying at worse. Even more so when there is a familiarity to him that Emma is unable to shake away.

His smile is sad this time, and he looks away for a second, as if clearing his mind. He is a puzzling man, this Killian Jones. A mystery that she would willingly unwrap, and the thought is more frightening to Emma that she would like – especially when she thinks back to the wish she made. Her lady mother always warned her of wishes, and how powerful they can be at time. Magic always comes with a price, her parents like to remind her – Emma wonders what the price of this man’s companionship could be.

“Are you happy?” is what he asks her, instead of answering her own question.

Emma frowns, taken aback. She doesn’t know what to tell him at first, besides to mind his own business. But then she thinks about it, truly thinks about it – is she happy? Well, yes. She is surrounded by love, her kingdom adores her, and her royal duties keep her on her toes just enough to be challenging without being maddening. She travels as often as she’d like, and she doesn’t fear a war or a famine, or any kind of tragedy threatening her people. She is as happy as can get – if you forget about her wish.

“I am,” she tells him. She hopes he doesn’t hear the small wavering in her voice, but he raises an eyebrow anyway, catching her lie. So she adds candidly, “As happy as an older sister with an annoying younger brother can be, at least.”

Killian smiles, “Ah, Neal.”

“Neal?” She frowns some more. “Surely you mean Leo. Prince Leopold. My brother.”

It is his turn to look confused, before a small laugh escapes his lips. “Of course. Pardon my confusion, Your Highness. The wine and the dancing made me quite dizzy, I must admit.”

She offers him an understanding smile, before she decides to be the one to have the upper hand. Being in charge is like second nature to her, after all, and she doesn’t like his knowing looks and questions. “Are _you_ happy, Captain Jones?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer anything, and Emma believes he will find a way out of this conversation. But then, much to her surprise, he leans closer to her, one hand next to her head on the wall. His warm breath is tickling against her mouth, his smile soft and caring, when he replies, “Right now, with you, I am the happiest man in the world.”

A gasp catches in her throat at the sincerity in his words, even more so when his eyes drop to her mouth once more. She licks her lips nervously, to which he replies with biting down on his bottom lip. For a second, she wonders what it feels like to be loved by this man – for a moment alone, she entertains the idea that perhaps it wouldn’t be too hard to find out.

And so, it is with such fantasies in her minds that her fingers wrap around the lapel of his coat. His eyes widen ever so slightly before he smirks. Emma is pretty sure she hears him whisper, “Here you are, love,” before she pulls him to her.

The kiss is messy at best, both because of their position and because they are too hungry for each other to keep it chaste and delicate. Immediately, his arm curls around her waist, pulling her off the wall and flush against him. Immediately, her free hand rises to his neck, fingers carding through his hair. He groans against her mouth, deepens the kiss.

His tongue touches hers, and Emma gasps at the flashbacks.

She pushes him away, fast enough to see the last sparkles of rainbow disappear into the night. Her eyes widen, her mouth opens into a wordless exclamation of surprise, before she focuses back on Killian. Her Killian. In front of her.

“Hook,” she breathes out.

His grin widens, splitting his face in two, before he drops another kiss on her mouth. “Glad you didn’t get me arrested this time,” he teases her. “I call that progress.”

But Emma is too baffled to reply, and instead stares at him for long seconds, before staring down at herself. The dress is soft, pooling around her legs – definitely more expensive that the ones she wore up until now during her adventures in the Enchanted Forest. Definitely something fitting of a princess, because a princess she is. Was. Wished to be.

When she looks back at him, he caresses her cheek, cups her chin – so attentive and delicate, easing her into the here and now as her mind struggles to decipher the truth from the dream, the reality from the wish. It had felt so real, as always with curses, and it leaves her dizzy and confused, melancholic for a life that wasn’t her own, could have been her own but turned out to be nothing more than a lie, a fantasy made by someone else for her. And that leaves her angry, so angry she can feel her magic cracking between her fingers.

“What did you do?” she asks him, even as she pushes him away.

Her hand finds his, and she doesn’t wait for his answer before she starts walking, forcing him to follow. He does so without a question, instead answering her own. “We managed to steal the lamp from the Evil Queen. I – Aladdin had to obey us, since. You know.”

She stops in her tracks at his words, turns around to face him again. Guilt in his eyes, he smiles sadly at her, and Emma remembers their conversations in the dark of the night, his heavy voice when he told her of what he went through as a child. She moves closer to him, presses a kiss to his cheek. “Aladdin will not blame you for it. And Jasmine will free him as soon as she can,” she reassures him.

“Thank you, love,” he tells her, following when she opens a small door on the side of the balcony. The hidden corridors are empty of guests, allowing them to move around the castle without being seen. Killian explains everything that has happened since the Evil Queen wished for Emma’s wish, and she clenches her jaw. Once again with people deciding for her. Once again with people stripping her of her own free will. She’s had enough.

“I will kill her myself,” she whispered between gritted teeth.

“And I won’t stop you,” Killian says. “But where are we going?”

She sighs, before looking at him above her shoulder. “We need a bean.”

He seems to understand her idea. Rolls his eyes and sighs loudly. “Bloody crocodile.”


End file.
